


since we’re alone

by bipetermj (divineauthor)



Category: Spider-Man - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon, Alternate Universe - Roommates/Housemates, BAMF Peter Parker, Bisexual Mary Jane Watson, Bisexual Michelle Jones, Bisexual Peter Parker, Drunken Confessions, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Friends With Benefits, Friends to Lovers, Grief, Gwen Stacy is Dead, Identity Reveal, Implied Sexual Content, Love Confessions, Michelle is Mary Jane, Ned Leeds is a Good Bro, POV Alternating, POV Michelle Jones, POV Peter Parker, Past Peter Parker/Gwen Stacy, Peter Parker is a Mess, Pining, Roommates, Secret Identity
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-25
Updated: 2020-08-29
Packaged: 2021-03-05 19:14:28
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 9,733
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25910419
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/divineauthor/pseuds/bipetermj
Summary: She’s been living with him for months and she never had a single heads up. Like: Hey, MJ or Woman Who Lives In This Apartment, your stupidly hot roommate is great in bed, you should get on that really quick.—•—MJ’s sleeping with Peter who is also her roommate, which is all kinds of bad. There’s also the added bonus that Peter’s keeping a secret from her.
Relationships: Gayle Watson & Mary Jane Watson, Michelle Jones/Peter Parker, Ned Leeds & Peter Parker, Peter Parker/Mary Jane Watson
Comments: 48
Kudos: 185





	1. you can show me your heart

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> the universe is so vague that you can probably think of any verse you want and it can fit. i still have to say i wrote mj with zendaya in mind! also there’s a surprising lack of smut given that this _is_ a fwb au lmao sorry for the feels 
> 
> title from: niall horan’s “since we’re alone”

Peter grunts into her shoulder, coming seconds after she did, and flops down to the side of the bed. MJ just stares up at the ceiling, her chest heaving. Her fingers are tingling and it’s crazy because it’s her _fingers_ and she feels her thighs still twitching minutely.

She can’t fucking believe it. Well, she can. She has solid proof right in the pleasurable ache in her center. But, God, who knew Peter Parker would be so weirdly good at sex?

She means—okay, well, she should’ve guessed. Peter’s always bringing home people and she always found it weird that he has such great game for such a nerd. There must be some gossip thing she’s missing out on because _holy shit_. She’s been missing out big time. She mulls it over for a second and kind of realizes all of the people he brought home probably would not want to talk to his female roommate, which is understandable, but she has a bone to pick with all of them. She’s been living with him for months and she never had a single heads up. Like: _Hey, MJ or Woman Who Lives In This Apartment, your stupidly hot roommate is great in bed, you should get on that really quick._ Gwen never talked to her about Peter’s fortunate bedroom skills either, but that was just because Gwen was Gwen and she avoided talking about her sex life like it was the plague.

And it’s not like MJ was lacking in the sex department either, but her law internship takes up so much of her time and the only person she does see besides her co-workers is Peter. But still, it’s the principle of things.

And despite living together, he’s worn shirts all the time. Big baggy clothes that never fit him right and she sort of wants to throw away his entire wardrobe now because he has a verifiable six-pack hidden underneath those clothes and it’s distracting, but in such a good way. Offhandedly, she wonders if she can get off by rubbing herself on his abs, but she feels herself heat up at the thought and quickly changes the subject in her own mind.

Peter rolls off the bed, tying off his condom and throwing it in the bin a couple of feet away. She stands up, shakily, and Peter throws her a cocky little grin that makes her insides clench a little as he holds her steady. She scrunches up her nose and slaps his chest lightly. “Shut up, Parker.”

“I didn’t say anything.” He laughs, putting his hands up, then heads off to the kitchen while she takes a second in the bathroom to pee.

He’s already in bed by the time she returns, his back up against the headboard and a glass of water at his side that she knows is for her because that is exactly the kind of person he is. He’s doing something on his laptop, the blue light illuminating his face. Instead of climbing into the bed on her side, or even walking back to her own room like she should, she takes a few gulps of the water and climbs over his legs to settle her head on the pillow, next to his hip.

It should be weird because hooking up with your incredibly attractive roommate is the last thing anyone should ever do and they should really talk about it, but MJ always sleeps the best after an orgasm, all loose-limbed and tired in the best way possible. So she just throws her arm over his hips and her leg over his and hums, content. She murmurs into his hip bone, “Sleep.”

“I’ve gotta edit these photos before I send them to JJ,” he explains, one hand going to her hair, stroking it for a bit. She closes her eyes and burrows herself deeper into him. “I’ll turn in, in a bit. You go ahead.”

And with that, MJ sleeps.

* * *

* * *

It becomes a thing, after that night.

They don’t really talk about it, or label it, and MJ’s mouth is sewn shut because she does _not_ want to ruin what they have because before… everything, Peter is her friend first and she’s not going to let sex ruin that. And, besides, plenty of friends have sex with one another and they turned out fine.

She’s completely lying to herself, she knows, but denial is the best option she’s got right now.

Peter’s loosened up and finally stopped wearing shirts all the time, which is great for her, but she notices he only wears them at home whenever he’s in pain. He looks fine, usually, but one day MJ hooked her chin over his shoulder to glance at his laptop and he hissed lowly. She pulled away and gave him a concerned look. She climbed over the couch while Peter rubbed at his shoulder.

“You good, tiger?” she asked. Her hands hovered over him before she tugged his shirt lightly to glance at the nasty bruise on him, all dark and purple, but Peter moved before she could really get a clear glimpse. “Oh, Jesus, Peter, are you okay?”

“It’s fine, MJ, nothing I can’t handle.” He waved her off and she sat back down on her legs, frowning. He looked at her and sighed, blowing air through his mouth noisily. “I’m fine. Really. It’s not even that bad, Em, it’ll be gone soon.”

“It looks really bad, Peter,” she argued.

But Peter just tilted his head and tugged the collar of his shirt down, more than she did moments ago. It… wasn’t bad. Just a little yellow around the edges. She blinked, brows furrowing. She _swore_ it was worse. Maybe it was the angle, but something didn’t fit right. He just grabbed her hand and kissed her knuckles before placing them down and going back to his laptop. “See? It’s fine. Just got bumped around a bit on the job. Those flimsy building structures are no joke.”

MJ pursed her lips. They were only flimsy because certain weirdo villains apparently liked to throw bombs everywhere. Or use their massive strength to pound into solid concrete. You know, just usual villain things.

And, listen, she had known Peter was the main guy JJ went to for super clear photos of Spider-Man and she had known, maybe in a distant way, that meant Peter was running around after a guy in spandex who literally fought criminals. It was how he paid for rent. But he got _hurt_ and she was honestly a little scared for him. All she said was, “Just… be careful, okay?”

“I always try,” he said sincerely. Then, he tilted his screen towards her and she looked down at a photo of Spider-Man, mid-action, swinging with one hand while the other webbed Vulture’s mouth shut. She couldn’t help but smile. Spider-Man _was_ one of her favorite superheroes. Had been since high school. She won’t admit it because she had a reputation to uphold, but she really did have a soft spot for him. So did most of the population of New York City. Sue her, she followed the masses. “Cool, right?”

He was grinning, his brown eyes bright and proud, and MJ wanted to kiss him silly. So she did. And she kissed him until he picked her up, her legs wrapped around his waist, and maneuvered his way to her room blindly.

She was oddly into it.

By the time Peter laid her down gently on her bed, her mind shoved the memory of moments ago away in favor of pulling his hips closer to hers.

“Hello,” Gayle sings, snapping her fingers in front of her face. MJ frowns and slaps her sister’s hand away. “Earth to MJ.”

“What?” she gripes, taking a swig of her tea. It’s cooled down considerably given that they’re two idiots sitting outside in the cold.

“I’ve called your name, like, ten times. What’s up?”

MJ peels the sticker back from the table, avoiding Gayle’s eyes. “Nothing.”

“Is it someone?” Gayle asks automatically, narrowing her eyes. “A girl? No. A boy—yes, I saw you hesitate. Who is it?”

“It’s no one, Gayle, really,” MJ says and right when she speaks, Peter sends her a text.

_are u still having coffee w ur sister??? i brought home pizza. ill keep it warm in the oven if u want_

His lack of grammar and punctuation should make her want to roll her eyes until she can see her brain, but Peter’s so damn nice all the time and she’s already having enough trouble keeping her emotions in check, so she doesn’t say a thing. She types a quick: _That’d be great. Thanks_.

She adds a heart emoji in the end and regrets it immediately, but Peter sends back a smiley face with eight eyes because that’s how cute and dumb he is. She places her phone back down and picks up her tea, grinning into it. She doesn’t notice Gayle can see his name on the screen until she hears her gasp and MJ hastily turns it off.

“Holy shit,” Gayle says, mouth agape. “Your roommate?

MJ stills, eyes wide. She places her cup down and it almost sloshes over the rim. “N-no. Nothing’s happening.”

“I mean—” Gayle chugs back her coffee and grins, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand. “—you could do a whole lot worse. At least it’s not Osborn again.”

MJ snorts. “Yeah, that ship sailed.”

“Peter seems nice. He’s, like, the only white boy I approved on your list of potential roommates.”

“There were literally two people on the list, Gayle.”

“Uh, yeah, so what? He gets my seal of approval, is all I’m saying.”

“Nothing’s going on between us.”

Gayle just raises her eyebrows and picks up a stray straw and rips off a piece before blowing the wrapper right into her face.

“Mature,” MJ drolls, her lips twisting into a wry smile. And then she rolls up the straw wrapper and launches it at Gayle’s. It hits right in between her forehead. After they both stifle their laughter, MJ grabs her bag and slings it over her shoulder. She bends down and gives Gayle a short hug. “Gotta go. I’ve got lunch at home.”

“Tell Peter I said hi,” her sister says, tilting back on her chair and lazily saluting her goodbye with two fingers. “Also, tell him if he hurts you, I will end him!”

“Will totally not do that,” she yells behind her, throwing her cup in the trash.

If she rushes home, it’s because of the pizza and because it’s _really_ cold outside, okay? Not because she misses Peter even though it’s only been a few hours since she’s seen him. She’s just… _horny_. So if she walks through the door and he’s shirtless and ruffling his hair and she kind of leaps into his arms and kisses him, that’s normal. Completely normal.

“Hey, MJ,” he says, breaking apart. He tastes like pizza and it should really be gross, but she’s just hungry now. It makes her laugh a little. He’s still holding her weight easily and she’s messing around with the curls at the nape of his neck. “How’s your sister?”

He shifts his arms until he’s only holding her with one while the other opens the oven. He’s so competent, it actually turns her on. She doesn’t even _go_ for muscly guys. MJ thought Peter was just your average man, but apparently he isn’t and she is _so_ reaping the benefits.

She wishes she had friends she talks to on a regular basis, so she can scream about it. The only person she’d do that with was Gwen and she… was obviously not here. And besides, even if she suddenly got resurrected, it’s not like MJ can wax poetic about her ex-boyfriend. That would break so many girl codes. MJ doesn’t actually know what a girl code is, but she’s pretty damn sure that would be one of them.

“Good,” she says as if she isn’t basically hanging on Peter like a monkey. “Annoying as ever. She says hi, by the way.”

They make a weird mismatched couple, him bending down slightly to slide the pizza out while she grabs some mugs from the cupboard. It would make more sense if she just lets go, but his grip is secure and he’s not faltering at all. It’s impressive. She needs to find more faults in him, this is getting so out of hand.

Peter settles her on the counter and grabs a slice while she pours some of their favorite six dollar wine into mugs. They’re classy like that. Day drinking like a couple of mentally stable grown ups. She snorts.

MJ grabs her own slice and bites into it, moaning. “Ugh, Pete, you are the best.”

Peter’s staring up at her and giving her this soft smile that simultaneously makes her want to run away and bury herself in him. But then, he coughs and looks down and the moment breaks. MJ’s not sure if she's thankful for it yet.

“It’s just pizza,” he says, taking a gulp from his mug. Spider-Man themed, of course. She likes the irony of Peter drinking from it while also getting paid to take pictures that’ll eventually go to the man who spouts lies that would honestly be a clear defamation of character if Spider-Man isn’t, well, technically a vigilante whose identity is locked up like Fort Knox. She sips at her wine. Her mug is a simple Winnie the Pooh themed, yellow monstrosity that she adores.

“Well, thank you for it anyway,” she says simply.

Peter eats like a machine because he’s almost done with his slice and she can see his hand creeping up for seconds. He has a stomach like a vacuum.

She continues, “I thought it was my turn for lunch.”

Peter shrugs. He says, still chewing, “It’s all a part of my diabolical plan.”

“Oh, really?” She scrunches her nose at him. He’s so gross. “Chew with your mouth _closed_ , please.”

Peter obliges, thank God.

“See, the plan was to room with an up and coming hotshot lawyer who will pay all the bills and I’d mooch off of them forever. I’m just buttering you up, so you’d feel bad if you got rid of me.”

MJ tries to stifle a grin. “Forever, huh?”

It takes a second before the reality of what he said processes in his mind and when it does, she visibly sees him freeze.

“I just meant, uh,” Peter starts, wiping the grease on his pants as he does something with his hands. He only does this when he’s really nervous. “Not that I—what I meant to say was… It was a joke, you know, I wouldn’t live with you forever. I mean, I’d actually love to live with you forever. Fuck. Not like that, but not _not_ like that because…”

Peter’s slowly backing away, his eyes were wide. He points at the door. “I’m just, uh, gonna go.” Then Peter gives her an awkward laugh before he bolts.

MJ just grabs another slice and swings her legs out. He’s not even wearing pants. She gives it three seconds before he realizes it. Three, two, one…

Peter barges back through the door. “I mean my room. Gonna go to my room, because I am half-naked and it’s winter outside and there are parts of my body that should not be freezing.” He almost runs to his room, but he still gently closes the door behind him because she _hates_ the sound of doors slamming shut.

“You don’t want any more pizza?” she yells. There’s a sound of something falling down, followed by some light cursing.

“No, thanks!” Peter yells back through the door.

MJ chuckles and bites her lip to keep herself from grinning so widely. He’s such a dork. She finishes her food and puts the rest of the pizza away in the fridge and cleans up a bit. She shuffles towards Peter’s door and knocks. He opens the door, looking sheepish and wearing the really cute Spider-Man pyjama bottoms she bought him for their designated holiday gift-giving day. She’s not religious and she kind of hates the capitalist underbelly of Christmas and Peter isn’t that religious either, but he is Jewish. They just picked a date in December and went with it.

“Hey, Pete,” she starts, then hesitates. She takes a deep breath in and says, “Just so you know, I’d let you mooch off of me forever, okay?”

“Okay,” he repeats and sighs out in relief. And in a beat, he pulls her in by the waist and kisses her senseless. She grins into his mouth and shuts the door with her foot as they stumble towards the bed.

* * *

* * *

Everything goes to shit during the second anniversary of Gwen’s death.

She never really saw how Peter was after Gwen died. They knew each other from high school, but they ran in different circles. Their only solid connection was Gwen and when she died, MJ did what she does best and she ran away. So while she was off in California staying with her dad, she never really thought hard about Peter. She came back to New York last year a few days after Gwen’s first anniversary which was when she saw Peter.

MJ was visiting Gwen’s grave when she saw Peter sitting down in front of her gravestone, rolling snow in one hand. He must be freezing. He had this faraway look in his eyes, but he still didn’t startle when she sat down next to him. She shivered, feeling the cold seep into her bottom.

“Hey, tiger,” she said. The wind turned up, so she buried her face in the collar of her coat. Peter didn’t move an inch.

“Hey, MJ,” he said. “How was California?”

“Warmer.”

Peter chuckled, then sighed. MJ tapped at her knees for a short while before Peter finally spoke again.

“I really miss her, Em. She was the love of my life and I… I was gonna marry her, you know.”

“I know, Peter,” MJ replied. Seeing them in love was a privilege. And seeing Peter without Gwen was a quiet tragedy. Peter loved selflessly and MJ always wanted that type of love, wanted to be loved like he loved Gwen because all of MJ’s exes loved her perfunctorily, like she had stayed long enough to be granted it. But where will all of Peter’s love go with no one to give it to? When his heart laid cold in the ground in front of him? MJ didn’t know the answer, so she just hunched herself in her coat a bit more.

She gave Gwen’s gravestone a look and MJ could practically hear her voice in her head. _Take care of him for me._ She wiped a stray tear from her eye and silently promised her dead best friend that she’d look out for Peter like she should’ve done in the first place. She turned towards Peter and held out her hand. “C’mon. Let’s go inside.”

He looked at her for a moment, then grabbed her hand and let himself get hauled up.

That was almost a year ago and MJ can’t help but feel guilty for sleeping with Peter. She knows logically that people move on and deal with grief in different ways, but Peter was the love of Gwen’s life. And now she’s dead and MJ is sleeping with him and she can’t even define what their relationship is. They’re way too close to be just friends with benefits, but they’ve skirted around labels the entire time they’ve hooked up.

It’s been a month since that day with the pizza and things after that have been oddly charged between the two of them. MJ doesn’t have the guts to talk about it because then she feels the need to hop on a plane and skip town and Peter _always_ gets so silent and broody when they get really serious. So they both avoid talking about it.

And now they both mutually decide to visit Gwen’s grave together. They pop over to May’s to grab the car because their parking spot is the tiniest thing known to man and May doesn’t mind.

By the time they get there, Gwen’s family is already huddled around her grave, probably for a while now given that they’re a bit late. MJ stands to the side as Peter greets Gwen’s family. She gives them a short wave and immediately tucks her hands into her arms, feeling out of place. She watches as Gwen’s family tear up and say a few words before leaving them to say their own piece. Peter’s alone, his gloveless hand sweeping away the snow that’s piled up. She can’t hear what he’s saying, but his shoulders slump down and he lets out this big sigh like he just revealed his greatest secret.

Peter looks over at her and his lips twitch up slightly. He holds out a hand and says, “You don’t have to be so far away. She was your best friend too.”

MJ takes his hand and she’s surprised he’s still warm despite standing out here for over half an hour. She shivers and he pulls her in close and all MJ can do is stare at Gwen’s name in silence. She doesn’t know what to say, doesn’t really deal well with these kinds of things, and there’s the added fact that she’s sleeping with her dead best friend’s boyfriend.

Peter just squeezes her hand. “I’ll give you two a minute. I’ll be in the car, okay?”

She just nods and waits until she can’t hear his feet crunching into the ground anymore. MJ squats down and traces Gwen’s name with her gloved finger.

“I’m sorry,” she whispers, her throat thick with the guilt that’s been eating her up inside. Then, she confesses to the cold slab of marble, “I think I love him, Gwen.”

MJ chokes out a watery laugh. “I finally know what you saw in him. He’s… he’s so _good_ and I feel like I’m stealing him from you, but that’s impossible and I don’t know what to do. He still loves you, you know. I don’t think he’ll ever stop, but that’s what makes me love _him_. He loves so much, cares so much, and he’s going to drown in it one day. Mark my words.” She traces the dates, hovering over February. Two years since her best friend died. “I love him, but I love you too, Gwen.”

She stands up and brushes the light coating of snow from her coat. “So you’re the genius out of the two of us. So tell me what to do and I’ll do it. I-I’ll stop what we’re doing if you don’t like it.”

But there’s nothing. No comforting words that MJ probably hallucinated the last time she was here. There’s just MJ and Gwen’s grave, both silent, both stiff and unyielding in the light snowfall.

She’s well and truly alone.

MJ bites her bottom lip, then turns away. She walks back to the car, sliding into the passenger seat ungracefully. Peter gives her a concerned look, but MJ pastes a half-smile and turns on the radio to drown out whatever Peter will say and everything her mind is mulling over.

“Home?” he says, pulling out of the cemetery. He’s driving one-handed, his right hand resting near the gear shift. This would be the moment MJ slides her hand with his like she’s done for the past few months, but MJ just shoves her hands inside her coat pockets and leans her head against the window.

“Yeah,” MJ says, shame welling up in her. “Home.”

They drop the car off at May’s and take the long way back to their apartment. They don’t say much, probably because Peter can tell she’s in one of those moods and he keeps quiet, just intertwines his fingers with hers, swinging them as the walk. They pass by the 24-hour convenience store and MJ stops in her tracks, pursing her lips. They have a quarter of a bottle of wine left at home and that’s not enough for her to get drunk and forget the afternoon she’s had. She has the day off tomorrow, so she doesn’t have to deal with a hangover at work if she goes overboard.

“MJ?” Peter says.

“I’m not gonna lie, tiger,” she replies, pulling him closer. “I kinda want to get drunk right now.”

Peter’s nose does that little twitching thing whenever he’s confused. “Is this because of Gwen—”

“Yes,” she says bluntly and watches as he scratches the back of his head with his free hand. “I don’t… I’m not good at this, you know. Talking about things like this. There’s a reason I ran away to California.”

“Em…” Peter sighs, then pulls her into a hug. MJ rests her head into the crook of his shoulder, breathing him in. “Wine or vodka?”

MJ smiles, squeezing him tighter. They must look like a couple of dummies holding each other in the middle of the street. She asks, “Do we have orange juice?”

“Uh, no, but we can get some,” he says.

“Vodka then.”

Then, Peter pulls away and tugs her into the store.

To be completely honest, after the third shot, MJ’s memories start to get a little fuzzy. She remembers coming home and shucking off her boots and her coat near the front door. She remembers the first shot of vodka and the second. There was a period of time where they just sat down on the couch, looking for something to watch, MJ feeling a pleasant buzz. But after her third, followed quickly by a fourth, things got hazy. There was Robert Pattinson on their screen and she remembers snorting hysterically when he sparkled like a disco ball. But after that? She doesn’t remember much.

MJ’s not exactly surprised. Vodka makes her forget things, which is why she enjoys wine more. But she hopes she didn’t do anything extremely embarrassing because God knows Peter would lord that over her for _weeks_.

So MJ wakes up to a splitting headache in her own room, groaning as a cold stream of sunlight hits her eyes. She really needs to tell Peter to persuade her out of doing this again. She cracks her eyes open, rubbing them as she sits up. She spots a glass of water and, thank you Peter Parker, aspirin and she downs it in a beat. God, her mouth feels like something died in it. She groans and shuffles her way out to go to the bathroom.

Once she finally finishes, MJ heads over to the kitchen to see Peter heating up some frozen waffles and she smiles. “You’re the best, tiger.”

She rests her head against his back, wrapping her arms around his stomach, and sighs. Peter lays his hand against hers as he grabs the waffles and the syrup.

MJ lets him go and makes grabby hands at one of the plates, which makes him chuckle.

“Menace,” he teases.

“Loser,” she bites back, pouring an ungodly amount of syrup onto her plate. She looks up and sees an expression on his face that she’s never seen before. She furrows her brows. “Did I do anything last night?”

Peter freezes, then shakes his head. “Nope.”

“You’re sure?” she asks again because he seems _weird_. It feels like he’s lying.

“Positive,” he says, grabbing the bottle of syrup and pouring a generous amount. “C’mon, MJ, eat. You’re hungover and it shows.”

“Ugh, shut up,” she says, biting into her food. “Just because you have a weirdly high alcohol tolerance level doesn’t mean you can flaunt it.”

“I mean…” he begins, but MJ kicks at his shins lightly.

“Shut up,” she says again.

Peter just laughs and bites into his waffle, his eyes burning bright.

And everything feels okay. For now, at least, but MJ will take it. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hope you enjoyed !!!! find me on [tumblr](http://bipetermj.tumblr.com/) for updates on part 2 (coming... soonish??)
> 
> fun fact: i was thinking of [this](https://bipetermj.tumblr.com/post/617602707550765056/mjwatson-daily-peter-parker-spider-man-vol-2) panel when i wrote mj coming home to peter after her brunch date with gayle


	2. i swear i won’t break it apart

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _Peter indulges MJ’s wishes to get drunk. How can he not? She’s been distant ever since they left the cemetery and Peter’s smart enough to guess why. Two peas in a pod, they are._
> 
> —•—
> 
> Peter’s keeping two secrets from MJ.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tw: attempted kidnapping (peter saves a lady from her kidnappers)

Peter indulges MJ’s wishes to get drunk. How can he not? She’s been distant ever since they left the cemetery and Peter’s smart enough to guess why. Two peas in a pod, they are. So now Peter chases down cheap vodka with orange juice with MJ snuggled up in his side.

Of course, he doesn’t tell her that even after all the shots she thrusts into his hands that he only feels a slight buzz, but even that goes away as the seconds tick by. MJ sloppily kisses the side of his mouth and says, “Sorta hungry. Do we have food?”

Besides the week-old Chinese food probably growing legs now? No. But: “I think we have some leftover chips in the top shelf. I’ll get them—”

Peter makes a move to stand up, but MJ presses a hand against his chest and pushes him down. He acquiesces, mostly because she seems to find the collar of his shirt particularly fascinating and Peter kind of wants to kiss her forever.

“I’ll get it, tiger,” she mumbles, unbuttoning the top three buttons. Peter squashes his grin down as MJ stands up and heads over to the kitchen. He keeps his gaze on her until he can’t see her anymore, then his eyes snap back to whatever the hell he’s watching now. He unbuttons the rest of his shirt, leaving him in a white tank.

She’s been gone for a few minutes and she’s missing the best part of the movie, so Peter goes to follow MJ into the kitchen. He spots her and smiles softly as she tries and fails to grab a bag of chips from the top shelf. For as tall as she is, those chips are buried in the back. He leans against the fridge and watches as she gives up, huffing. Annoyed, she takes another shot of vodka, not even bothering to chase it down with the orange juice they bought.

MJ looks up, catching a glimpse of him, and she grins widely, her hair wild and unruly. She’s markedly in better spirits than when they left the cemetery, so he’s glad she’s not bursting into tears. Not that she usually does that, but Peter’s just not the best with crying women. Hell, people crying in general aren’t his strong suit.

“Peter,” MJ slurs, tipping over towards him. Just before she falls, he settles his hands on her waist to steady her. She smells like vodka and her coconut shampoo. She taps his chest twice and rests her head on his shoulder, humming. Peter closes his eyes and relishes in her warmth. They stay like this for a few minutes, swaying a little in each other’s arms and Peter’s never felt more home than he ever has anywhere else. Something about her makes him feel comfortable, makes him soften the rough edges he had to create for himself.

She murmurs into his skin, “Hey, tiger?”

“Yeah, MJ?” he whispers, not wanting to break the moment.

“I… I don’t think I’m good enough,” she admits into the crook of his neck. Peter stills and his heart shatters quietly with her words.

“Hey,” he says and moves his head until she picks hers up and stares at him. Peter brushes a strand away from her cheek and she leans her whole face against his palm and he can’t resist the urge to stroke her skin with the pad of his thumb. She’s flushed. God, she’s beautiful. “Em, _hey_ , c’mon, what’s this about?”

“I’m just me and I don’t—you deserve someone like Gwen and I’m not her. I can’t be her,” MJ’s eyes well up with tears. “Peter, I like you. A lot. _So_ much. And even more than that.”

Peter’s thumb freezes on her cheek and she just sighs with her entire body and folds into him. He wraps his arms around her again, not really knowing what to do. He stands there like he’s glued to the floor because he may as well be. He knows she’s not Gwen, but he doesn’t like—no, _love_ MJ because she reminds him of Gwen. He loves her because she’s MJ. He suddenly feels way too sober in the yellow light of their kitchen. He dry-swallows and confesses, “Well, I really like you, too.”

He waits for a response, anything at all, but when MJ doesn’t answer, Peter realizes she fell asleep on him. He chuckles, a little relieved and disappointed all the same, and picks her up, grabbing her with ease. Her head lolls on his shoulder, but she doesn’t wake up. She’s out cold.

“You aren’t gonna remember a single bit of this, huh,” he says into the still air. He should’ve figured after that one instance at that lawyer meet-up MJ wrangled him into going with her—vodka and MJ’s memories don’t mesh well. He toes her door open and settles her down under her covers, taking off her the elastic band that’s barely holding her hair together. He goes out and grabs a glass of water and some aspirin before settling it on her bedside table.

He hesitates before he sits on the side of her bed for a bit as she sleeps, her mouth open slightly, pushing out the tiniest of breaths. The moon peeks out from behind her curtains, bathing her in a soft glow, and Peter’s lips twitch upward. He bends down and kisses her forehead, whispering, “Good night, honey.”

Then, he takes his leave. He steals one last look and shuts her door, walking across the hall to his own room. He gets ready to go to bed, brushing away the smell of alcohol from his mouth and putting on the Spider-Man bottoms she gave him as a gift. It’s funny, the gift; it came in a set, but MJ was eyeing the top and he doesn’t wear those anyway, so he gave it to her. Sometimes she wears it around the apartment, just the shirt and her underwear and Peter has to restrain himself from kissing her like a madman. Something about MJ wearing his clothes with him on it makes that caveman part of his brain crazy, even though she doesn’t _know_ Spider-Man is him.

Well, MJ always makes him crazy. In the best ways possible, though.

He crawls on his side of the bed and wishes she was by him, clinging to him like she always does when she sleeps in his bed. Peter sighs and forces himself to shut his eyes and get some much needed rest.

* * *

* * *

MJ doesn’t remember, which is what he expected, but Peter can’t get himself to stop thinking about it. There’s a soft sadness to her words and it rattles his brain as he “goes to work.” He leaves MJ to rest off her hangover and heads to the roof to change into his suit.

As he lets a web attach itself to another building, he still can’t stop thinking about her. It’s crazy that MJ doesn’t think the best of herself, doesn’t think of herself as _good_. Because she’s even better than that. She’s one of the best people he knows.

And Peter never once thought of MJ as… as some sort of replacement for Gwen. That would be demeaning to all three of them. He remembers when he thought of MJ as just Gwen’s best friend. Gwen would wave a goodbye and pull MJ by the hand to go to some art gallery that opened up. He remembers when he’d walk in on them binging true crime documentaries as they painted each other’s nails.

He never once thought of MJ as Gwen’s replacement. She’s her own person. Sure, when he first met her, he categorized her as Gwen’s best friend, but then they hung out more and she became _his_ friend too. And it’s fun to be friends with her. She’s so stubborn and her bark is as bad as her bite, but he lets himself bicker back with her, the quips he usually reserves when he’s in his suit make its way to his conversations with MJ. And MJ gives as much as she takes.

Gwen and MJ were his best girls and then Gwen died and MJ moved away and he threw himself into fighting the Green Goblin with a rage he didn’t know he had until he was grieving, empty and aching and drowning in it. Then Norman Osborn got himself killed by his own making and MJ came back months later, holding out her hand like a lifeline, offering up her spare room when she realized he’d been crashing on Ned’s couch for months.

MJ held out her hand and Peter, honest to God, thinks that was the moment he started to fall in love with her.

He fell in love with the way she practices her rebuttals in front of him, the way she lights up when he brings home leftover food from Aunt May’s, the way she laughs so hard she lets out the loudest snort. He fell in love with the way she gets too invested in child cases, the way her stubbornness got her to where she’s at, the way she melts at home, in his bed, in his arms. Every little detail about her is tucked inside his head like a safe, adding to the memories, to his love.

But now Peter holds two secrets to his chest and the guilt gnaws at his core. As much as he loves her, he can’t risk her life. There’s only a handful of people who know he’s Spider-Man and he can count them on one hand—hell, half of them are already dead. Gwen knew and she loved him, but her worry for him chipped away at her soul. And then… then he got her killed.

Peter never wants that to happen to MJ. So he’s been super careful, double-checking to see if she’s in before he stumbles through the window. He keeps all his serious wounds under wraps and keeps MJ’s mind off of any of his injuries that she spots. He avoids everything that made Ned find out, that made both Osborns parse out his identity. Even though he’s selfish enough to keep her close, he tries to save her from the pains of knowing who Spider-Man really is.

He’s glad it’s an easy day out on the streets. No big flashy villain ready to pounce and ruin his entire week. There’s just a kid who lost their balloon, a pizza guy struggling to hold a large order in his hands—and _score_ , Peter gets a coupon for two free pizzas from that—and a couple of minor thefts that he stops in a few minutes.

Peter webs the last guy’s arm to the building behind him and puts his hands on his hips. Who the hell robs a bodega in broad daylight? Well, there’s no accounting for brains when all they’ve got are brawns.

“Hey, hey, you bastard! Let me out,” the guy says, struggling to rip himself away.

“Huh,” Peter says, glancing down at the burner phone that fell out of one guy’s pocket. He picks it up and checks the time. It’s barely noon. Damn, is it him, or are these guys getting easier to round up? He chucks the phone into the bin and salutes the man with a lazy two fingers. “Well, thanks for the confidence boost, guys. I appreciate it.”

“Fuck y—” The guy doesn’t have a chance to finish because Peter webs his mouth shut.

“Shush,” Peter admonishes, pointing his thumbs behind him. “There’s kids here. Now, I’m betting the owners called the cops, so I’ll be on my way. They like me as much as they’ll like you, pal.”

Peter aims his web-shooters and presses down at his palm, pulling himself up and out of the alleyway in a smooth motion. He swings aimlessly a bit until he realizes he’s headed for Ned’s apartment. It’s Saturday, so he should be home, probably sleeping in. He sticks to the wall and climbs up until he sees Ned’s bedroom window and he knocks.

In a few seconds, Peter can hear Ned fumbling around his room before he unlatches the window and says, “Hey, man.” Ned rubs his eyes and yawns, sitting back down in his chair and picking up his bowl of cereal.

“Hey, Ned,” he says, spotting the tote bag filled with his spare change of clothes. He shucks off his suit while Ned taps at his keyboard. “How’s SI treating you?”

“Great,” Ned replies. “Mr. Stark’s still badgering me about getting you to work for him.”

Peter rolls his eyes. “You know I can’t—”

“Yeah, dude, I understand. That’s why I told him you have a grave disease.”

Peter finishes putting on a plain blue tee and spins around. “You said _what_ to Mr. Stark?”

Ned raises his free hand, snorting. “Kidding. I just told him you can’t work full time when May’s sick. What’s got you riled up?”

Peter slumps down onto the bed and sighs. “MJ.”

“MJ, your _roommate_? The scary lawyer?” Ned asks.

Peter stifles his laugh at the description. He’s seen MJ in nothing but one of his hoodies, getting angry at their blender that works about half the time. She’s as much of a loser as he is and he loves that about her. “Yeah. I’m surprised we haven’t hung out more often. She likes you.” She has that same easy, wry fondness towards Ned that she had for Peter when they first met.

Ned hums. “Busy schedules. Also, I barely see you, man. Texts aren’t enough and we still never finished setting up the LEGO Death Star.”

Peter figures. Ned lands a cushy job as head of one of the IT departments at Stark Industry, MJ’s piled up in cases, and Peter’s off busy fighting whatever the hell entered New York City for the week. When Peter pictured adulthood back when he was a bug-eyed teen, he never thought this was how his life would end up. But so is the luck of the Parkers.

“So what’s up with you and MJ?” Ned continues.

“Uh,” Peter says intelligibly, thinking of everything they’ve done in the past few months. Heat races to his cheeks and Peter desperately wishes he still had his mask on.

“ _Dude._ ” Ned places his cereal down and swivels in his chair. “No way.”

“I didn’t say anything!”

“You don’t have to,” Ned counters, slugging a punch to his arm. “Are you, like, _together_ together?”

“I mean…” Peter purses his lips, thinking. “Sorta? No. Well, not no—it’s complicated, okay? We’ve been kinda sleeping with each other for a while now and sometimes it feels like… like _more_ and last night she told me she likes me.”

Ned gives him a solemn nod. “And do you like her?”

“More than that,” he says, easy as breathing. “She’s everything, man. But you know it’s not simple. First off, she doesn’t even remember telling me she likes me—”

“ _Peter_.”

“—because she was drunk and then there’s the fact that she thinks I’m sleeping with her because she’s a link to Gwen and that I’m replacing her or something crazy like that—”

“Jesus.”

“—and not to mention that, you know, I’m fucking _Spider-Man_ ,” Peter finishes, resting his elbows on his knees and slamming his face into his palms.

“Oh, dude,” Ned says, patting his shoulder. “I don’t know what to tell you. I gotta say, though, I’d appreciate a new F.O.S. Nothing beats the awkwardness of trying to rescind Harry’s membership.”

Peter snorts into his hands and looks up.

“MJ seems like a really good person, Peter. And I think bottling everything up won’t make it go away forever. You tried that with Gwen and…” Ned trails off.

Peter frowns. He remembers it all too clearly. He pushed everyone away, focusing on the Green Goblin with a single-minded intent and almost lost himself in the process. Once he was gone, Peter just threw away the suit. No one spotted Spider-Man swinging around the city for _weeks_ until Electro came along and, with the Avengers off-world, Peter realized he couldn’t leave everyone to suffer when he could help.

“I’ve only seen MJ a couple of times and I sorta guessed you liked her even then. And if you know you more than like her, you should tell her the truth. About everything. Because if you wanna be with her, like _really_ be with her, she has to know what she’s getting into.”

All he can think about is the bridge, the Goblin’s laugh in his ears, the sound of Gwen’s neck snapping from the force. Peter bows his head and wrings his hands. He croaks out, “Yeah… yeah, okay.”

Ned softens. “You wanna finish the Death Star now? I need to tell you about this receptionist on the forty-third floor who asked me out last night.”

Peter nods and stands up, clapping a hand on Ned’s shoulder and squeezing it. “What’s her name?”

“Betty, Betty Brant…”

* * *

* * *

Peter doesn’t know what he wants. Scratch that, he absolutely knows what he wants and that’s to be with MJ. But what he doesn’t know is that if he’s selfless enough to let her go.

It’s been a month and then some after he visited Ned. They finally finished the LEGO set after a few more meetups and Ned blissfully doesn’t nudge him about details. He does spill about his date and Ned’s now dating a pretty co-worker from Stark Industries.

He’s grappling with his choices and MJ notices he’s been acting strange and tries to comfort him, but that only makes his dilemma worse and she can tell. So she backs off, sleeps in her room most nights even though all Peter wants to do is wrap her in his arms and never let go.

It’s been affecting him being Spider-Man too.

He didn’t notice until an hour ago today. A couple of low-lifes tried to kidnap a lady when he heard her muffled screams from a block away. So he swung quickly and found a nondescript white van trudging down a thin alleyway. Usually Peter would swing through the glass and knock the accomplice out first, but there wasn’t enough momentum to do that in such a small space and he didn’t want to risk damaging the residential apartments surrounding it.

So he ran a couple hundred feet ahead and shot a web at one of the wheels, enough to slow it down. The lady’s cries quietened down to a low whimper and he heard the driver curse. “Not fucking today.”

“Flat tire? the accomplice asked.

“Doesn’t feel like one. Go check it out.”

The accomplice muttered underneath his breath, but got out of the car and went to look at the back right tire. Once he bent down, Peter webbed the guy up nice and tight in a cocoon and let him hang from the building. He patted the guy down and found his keys. Thank God.

He jumped down, softening his landing, and jiggled the key into the lock. He opened it and immediately put his finger to his mouth before the lady—who looked like she was in her mid-twenties—had the chance to speak. He bent down low enough that the driver wouldn’t catch him.

The lady’s hands were zip tied and her mouth covered by a piece of cloth. Peter clenched his fist before he threw away the gag. He kept his finger to his mask and was about to snap her zip tie open when the driver spoke.

“So what’s up back there?”

 _Damn._ Fucking hell.

The lady’s eyes widened and, without the mouth gag, her whimper is infinitely louder than before. He snaps her zip ties and tries to get her to stay quiet longer.

“Hey, the fuck is taking so long?”

The driver looked in his rear view mirror just as Peter tried to get the lady out. He was out of the van, standing upright slightly to help the lady crawl out. They make eye contact and then: “Oh, _shit_.”

The driver slams the gas and shifts to reverse and the girl screams out as the force sends her hurtling back near the front seats, “Help!”

And Peter freezes for a second. Just one second because her voice sounded _so_ much like MJ that it scrambled his brain. But it was enough for Peter to forget to move back before the van tried to run him over. So Peter just widens his stance and plants his hands against the car and _pushes_ back. He skids a few feet and it lifted in his hands slightly before he settled it back down. He twinged at the lady getting a little bruised up during it, but he quickly shoots one web after another in quick succession, taking out the headrest with one and then slamming the man’s head back with the other.

That got him occupied as he let go of the wheel and tried in vain to struggle out of Peter’s webs. Peter rounded off to the driver’s side and ripped off the door and knocked the man out with a single punch. If Peter rattled a few teeth loose from the man’s skull, he deserved it.

Peter quickly checked for a phone and dialed 911, getting the lady out and calling for an ambulance simultaneously. The lady started crying and he sat down next to her and felt himself jolt a little when she hugged him. He settled for a light hug, patting her on the shoulder, and comforted her until the ambulance came. He waited until the lady—Carla, she said though her tears—was in the hands of the EMT and made sure she was fine and taken care of until he left.

That was around midnight and it’s now bordering one o’clock when Peter swings himself back home.

God, that could’ve been MJ. That could’ve been her and he could’ve lost her and Peter doesn’t know what to _do_.

Mindlessly, Peter lands on the roof, spotting his change of clothes a few feet away when he hears a small gasp. Peter turns around and sees MJ swaddled up in his old ESU hoodie, at the far left of the roof. He stills and tries to think of why she’d ever go up to the roof. She never did before and she… she looks so _lonely_ in the moonlight, with her hands shoved into the pocket and her haired pulled back into a sloppy bun.

“Hi,” MJ says, shuffling her feet a little.

He dry-swallows and tries to find a suitable greeting, but he comes up short. What if she recognizes his voice? He plays up his New York accent a bit when he’s in the suit, but it’s still undeniably him. But do people even know each other’s voices by heart?

Then Peter thinks of Carla, the way he stopped in his tracks when she said one word.

“Sorry, you must be resting or something,” she says, stiffly tucking her hair behind her ear when he stays silent. She grants him a small smile. “Save some lives today, Spider-Man?”

Peter lifts a shoulder, feeling shy.

“Is there a reason you’re not speaking or am I just that special?” MJ jokes, but Peter can tell there’s an undercurrent of anxiety in her words.

He doesn’t want to say anything for fear she might recognize him, but he doesn’t want to make her feel like he’s ignoring her either. So he just puts his hand over his throat and shakes his head.

“Oh, you’re sick.”

Peter nods.

MJ takes a few steps closer. “That sucks. Fighting crime while you’re sick? New York’s lucky to have you.”

There’s an earnestness to her words that makes heat rush to his face. He’s glad for the mask. Peter shrugs again and rocks on his heels a little. She’s only a foot away now and it’s taking everything in him not to say something, to do something.

“Guess I’ll get going,” MJ says. “You’ve probably got a monopoly on all the roofs of the city. I don’t need it, so it’s all yours. I’ll see you around, Spidey.”

MJ turns, but Peter’s hand catches her wrist and she’s surprised enough to look back at him. “What—”

“MJ, wait,” he says, still holding onto her wrist. He can feel her pulse, her heart beating a little faster. All he thinks about is the kidnapping he stopped, imagining a world where MJ would be in that situation. Imagines every situation she could find herself in, and Peter finally realizes that he wants to be selfish. Wants to have her close for as long the world will let him because he can’t lose her. He’ll do anything to protect the city, but he _needs_ her. And he deserves this, deserves a life with her.

“How do you know my name?” is what she asks. Then, MJ’s hand clamps onto his and squeezes slightly. “Do you know me? Oh my God, do I know you?”

Peter makes a split-second decision and, with his free hand, he rips off his mask. MJ’s grip slackened and she gaped at him. Her hands move up towards his face and he lets her.

“Peter,” she breathes out, her eyes glimmering. Her hands settle on his face, moving until one hand twists curls into his hair. She repeats again, “ _Peter_.”

Peter reaches up his gloved hand and settles it against the back of MJ’s hand, moving her until he presses a light kiss on her fingers. He smiles, a little shakily, and says, “Hey, Em.”

A myriad of emotions passes through her face before she just throws her arms around his neck and Peter automatically buries her in his embrace.

“Peter, you—you’re—”

“Spider-Man,” he finishes for her. “Surprise?”

MJ leans back and pinches his arm. “I cannot fucking _believe_ you hid this from me for so long. Spider-Man’s been active since high school. Holy shit, Peter you’ve been out on the streets since we were literal children, oh my God.”

“Calm down, Em,” Peter says, rubbing her arms.

“And all those fights— _God_ , Peter,” MJ continues, looking more and more frazzled by the second.

“MJ.”

“Oh, tiger,” she says, faltering. She leans in and, in a beat, their lips connect and he knows she’s saying something, putting all her emotions into their kiss because he’s doing the same. He’s thinking _MJ, I’m sorry_ and _I love you—God, I love you so damn much_ and _stay with me_ and _be with me_.

They break apart to breathe, but they’re still a hair’s width away from one another.

She says suddenly, “I love you.”

Peter grins. “I know.”

MJ shoves him slightly. “You did _not_ just Han Solo me right now, Parker.”

“I love you too,” he says, chuckling. “Of course, I do, honey.”

They stay like that for a few moments, their laughter freezing in the cold air. He doesn’t know how long they stay like that, MJ in his arms, them swaying and giggling intermittently. Everything softens and MJ just lays her head on his shoulder just like she did when she got drunk that one night.

“I’m scared,” she whispers. Peter stiffens and attempts to pull away, but her grip is tight. “Not… not of you being Spider-Man. I mean I am a little worried because you get hurt a lot—what I’m trying to say is that I don’t want you to think you’re in love with me because I was Gwen’s friend or something.”

“I don’t think that, MJ,” he says, pressing a kiss to her forehead. “I love you for _you_. Gwen would be pissed otherwise and it’d be totally unfair to you and her.”

MJ says nothing. Peter can tell where her mind’s going. She had that same level of distance when they left the cemetery. MJ picks her head up and her eyes look down at the floor.

“I know it’s weird,” he continues. “Us sleeping together. But Gwen would want us both to be happy because that’s the type of person she is. And, God, MJ, you make me so happy.”

MJ lifts her head up and smiles softly. “You make me happy too, Peter.”

“So are we—” Peter gestures to the space between them. “—like, doing this?”

“You dork,” she laughs, bright and loud and despite the chill settling in around them, Peter feels warmed down to his toes. “Yeah. Yeah, we’re doing this.”

“Really?” Peter can’t help but say. There is a good chance he might be dreaming and it doesn’t help to check.

“Yes,” she says emphatically, pressing her lips to the corner of his mouth. “We still need to talk about the whole Spider-Man thing, you know. You’re not getting out of this conversation, so help me God. But let’s go home first. It’s fucking _freezing_ out here.”

Peter pulls her against him. “Let me change before any of the neighbors see me.”

“It’s so cold,” she protests. “Just go through the window or something.”

Peter pauses. That’s right. He can enter through their window now.

“I’ll see you in a minute,” he says, nodding. He picks up the mask that fell down on the ledge and shoves it on. He checks to see if anyone’s near, but he catches MJ giving him such a fond smile. “What?”

“It’s nothing,” she says. “It’s just that… I’m dating Spider-Man.”

Peter grins. “Not a glamorous label, to be honest. Besides, I’m dating _you_. Now that’s something to shout out to the world.”

“Shut up.” She rolls her eyes, but she smiles at him. “Now go. I’ll see you back at home.”

Peter just gives her a wave and lets himself fall, shooting a web and swinging towards the other side of the building where their window is. He gets there before her, of course. The elevator is slow on good days, so Peter takes the time to change into his civvies. He hears the door open and he pads out of his room to close the window. He turns around and grins.

“Hi, honey, I’m home,” he teases.

“Hey, tiger,” she greets back, playing along. “How was work?”

“Oh, you know. Same old, same old.”

MJ slings her arms around his neck. “Well, you’re here now.”

Peter doesn’t respond, just kisses her until she’s breathy and smiling into his mouth.

_I’m home._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hope you enjoyed !!!! find me on [tumblr](http://bipetermj.tumblr.com/) :D i kinda fell in love with this universe so maybe i’ll pop in later for an epilogue or smth, but that’s for a later time and a later me
> 
> fun fact: this entire thing was inspired by me binging new girl and i _had_ to put in that [“good night, honey”](https://youtu.be/hGR_vDNB-L0?t=60) scene because jake johnson.... is always a perfect peter parker and the way he said it... god tier


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